


Test of My Patience (The Only Way of Knowing You)

by monsieur-hadrien (armanikenma)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Draco being mysterious, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fine Line, Fine Line by Harry Styles, Harry being a loving boyfriend, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Letters, M/M, Song fic, Why can't they just catch a break, but make it slowed and reverbed, inspired by Harry Styles, love letters but make it less love and more ranting and raving with a touch of concern, they both love each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27425212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armanikenma/pseuds/monsieur-hadrien
Summary: After the end of fifth year, Harry can't help but notice that something is terrifying Draco.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 108





	Test of My Patience (The Only Way of Knowing You)

**Author's Note:**

> It hurts a bit more when you listen to Fine Line by Harry Styles while reading this.  
> Good luck lmao  
> slowed and reverbed version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0NJf-RRuS2Y  
> follow me on tumblr: monsieur-hadrien

Harry knew something was off with Draco. Ever since the end of fifth year and the whole debacle at the Ministry, his partner had been worryingly silent.

It wasn’t like Draco to be so curt in his letters. He claimed that it’s so Harry had something to keep his spirits up while he was with the Dursleys, and, to be honest, when they spent their first summer apart while being, you know,  _ together,  _ that was probably true. Even though Harry sometimes didn’t have the time to write as detailed responses as his partner’s (who knew if his Uncle Vernon would decide to snoop through his things just to find out that his delinquent nephew was not only a wizard but, heaven forbid,  _ a homosexual.  _ Granted, Harry was bi, not gay, but it’s not like his bigoted family would ever care to know the difference), Draco would always send him lengthy accounts of his time away.

Draco’s letters consisted of retellings of the everyday life at the Malfoy Manor, whether it be the balls that he attended or the fascinating old books he found while perusing the ancient shelves of the manor library. Occasionally he would send Harry some wizarding treats or a book that he thought he would like, usually pertaining to defense spells or warding. Throughout the whole research-paper-long letter, Draco made sure to berate Harry’s decision to stay at the Dursleys’. Not that Harry detested him for it, it was quite the opposite, actually. It felt nice to know that his boyfriend cared about him, even if he showed it through half-hearted insults.

_ I don’t understand how you could still be this daft,  _ Draco would write.  _ After all of the quality time you spend with me, one would assume that you’d have taken a lesson in self-preservation. That is not the case, however. It seems that it is truly impossible to take the courageous self-sacrifice out of the Gryffindor. _

He’d go on to write later,  _ Although in this situation absolutely detest your asinine Gryffindorish tendencies, I not only love you despite them but because of them, you barmy git. _

A boyish grin would always make its way to Harry’s lips whenever Draco said “the l-word” as he used to call it. Despite whatever Harry may claim out loud, he adored words of affirmation, especially from Draco, directly contradicting the cold, formal exterior he put on for the masses. In turn, Harry always made an effort to compliment Draco or tell Draco he loved him. Especially while cuddling, Harry liked to break out “the l-word,” just to see Draco get all flustered and grumbly before melting into Harry’s arms. They both sopped up all the hugs and cuddles they could get while they were alone, using the Room of Requirement they found at the beginning of second term to their full advantage. Apparently, touch-starved childhoods make for lots of cuddle sessions with your significant other later on.

The two were very open with each other. For Harry, it was a lot about the Tri-Wizard Tournament and his family, whereas Draco would vent not only about his family pressures but his father’s shady deals with Death Eaters he didn’t want anything to do with. He believed in the preservation of pureblood tradition, of course; he wasn’t going to leave behind centuries of information and culture. He didn’t think that mass genocide was the answer, no matter what garbage he spouted in their earlier years.

Draco trusted Harry with this information, information that could very well get him disowned and outcast, and Harry vice versa. This was why Harry was so worried when Draco wouldn’t tell him the details of his summer. Harry told Draco that he saw his father in the Department of Mysteries with the Dark Lord that night. That it was his fault that he was sent to Azkaban. Draco constantly reassured him that it wasn’t his fault, that it was his father’s actions that caused his own undoing, especially for attacking his boyfriend. He was hurt though. Harry could tell, and maybe it wasn’t anger towards him, but it would be hard not to feel some sort of emotion toward the imprisonment of the man who raised you. Even if they were disgustingly racist and cold to their own child.

Instead of Draco’s usual letters, Harry had been receiving short paragraphs about how the gardens look gorgeous this time of year, and that he wished he was there to see it. The letter was addressed to “Bambi” (after mentioning to Draco that that’s what Sirius and Remus would call him sometimes, he had a right laugh before kissing a sulking Harry on the cheek and telling him that it was adorable), and closing it with  _ Best Regards, Dragon.  _ Draco didn’t ever use pet names with Harry, that just wasn’t something he did. And while Harry would be the first to admit that he could be oblivious sometimes, it didn’t take long for him to piece together that Draco had reason to believe that something, or someone, would try to intercept and read their correspondence.

Yes, it was safe to say that Harry was worried. Very worried.

Harry couldn’t address his worry until next term. He didn’t want Draco to stop writing to him completely. If Harry knew anything at all about his boyfriend, it’s that he couldn’t force his feelings out of him. The minute anyone tried to get Draco to talk about something he’d rather not, he would shut them out completely. It happened at the beginning of fifth year when Harry tried to talk to him about Voldemort and what he and his family thought about the whole situation. Draco wouldn’t tell him anything and remained impassive the first time Harry asked, but as Harry kept asking, Draco pushed him farther and farther away. At first, Harry thought that it was because Draco didn’t believe him about Voldemort, but the sheer degree of avoidance was far too great for that to be Draco’s only reason.

The two almost broke up because of it, and Harry wouldn’t risk that again.

Finally, after the blood quill detentions became too extreme for Draco to not notice, he came clean. He came clean about his father’s alignment with the Dark Lord and his meddling in the Ministry, how the Minister had given Umbridge the go-ahead to hurt students and that he was complicit in the rise of Voldemort. He didn’t want Harry to think that he was anything like his father or that he subscribed to any of the views that his family or the Dark Lord pushed. It wasn’t just that, though. Draco had decided to blame himself for Harry’s abuse at the hands of Umbridge, that he could have stopped her from becoming a professor if he had just used his name and political clout. Harry reassured him time and time again after that it was never his fault and that it’s all the Ministry’s. It didn’t change Harry’s opinion of his partner.  _ In fact,  _ Harry had said,  _ I could never blame you for such a thing. I love you too much to ever do that. _

That was the first time Harry had ever said he “l-worded” Draco. That was also the first time Draco had ever cried in front of him.

As much as Harry feared for Draco, all he could do was wait.

***

Draco wouldn’t look at Harry. Not on the platform or the train. Not even during the feast in the Great Hall. Sure, their relationship wasn’t open knowledge, especially among Draco’s Slytherin companions and Harry’s Gryffindor friend group, but the two of them have always made time to see each other. Draco wasn’t just being curt with him, he was actively avoiding him.

Now, that would just not do.

Harry made it his mission to try to catch Draco’s eye while the students filed out of the hall. In his worried state, Harry forgot that Draco is a prefect and probably wouldn’t be able to see him tonight. He tried anyway, though.

After addressing the Slytherin first years, he looked to Harry who, with pleading eyes, mouthed,  _ Meet me later. _

It would have been invisible to anybody else, but Harry knew Draco’s body language like the back of his hand. Draco inclined his head slightly in agreement before turning on his heels to lead his younger years to their common room, his right hand fiddling with his cuticles, his sole nervous giveaway.

Harry made an excuse to Hermione and Ron about going to speak to Dumbledore to get away. Ron was too far into his food coma to protest, but Hermione, just as Harry knew Draco, could tell something was off with her best friend. She let him go, though, without any questions. She knew that if Harry wanted to share, he would.

Harry had never been more thankful for Hermione’s understanding than in that moment as he separated from his best friends and headed in the direction of the Room of Requirement.

***

When Harry and Draco had stumbled upon the Room of Requirement in their fourth year, they were in desperate need of alone time. With Harry being hounded by Hermione to prepare for the final task and with Draco’s building family troubles, their time together became a little escape from reality.

The Room of Requirement was a place where there were no Hogwarts houses or childish rivalries, no purebloods, or half-bloods, or muggle-borns. For the first time, there were no labels that stood in between them or expectations to uphold. There was no Malfoy and Potter. They were just Draco and Harry. Draco was more warm and loving than Malfoy, just as Harry was more open and cool-tempered than Potter. While Malfoy and Potter were like ice and fire, Draco and Harry were like water and sunlight, perfectly complimenting each other. The Room of Requirement always knows what its users need, and what Draco and Harry needed was a safe space.

So a safe space is what they got.

The room hadn’t changed since the first time they had used it, as if it had known what they’d need in the future, even before the boys had known they’d be together for nearly two years. The simplistic wood furniture and fully-stocked kitchen along with their leather sofa facing a roaring fireplace and queen-size bed in the corner were cozy and familiar. The two had spent many nights, weekends, and free periods in their little apartment, enough time to where they knew whose dent in the cushions was whose and whose socks belonged in whose drawer. For a couple of teenage boys, they were quite domestic. Harry, who always wanted a family and home of his own, loved every second of it, and, although he would never admit it, Draco loved it too. He loved to see Harry as in his element as he was when they were alone together. If Harry loved it, Draco loved it by default.

It felt odd for Harry to wait there on his own. More often than not, they would meet each other there after curfew, but because Harry tended to be chronically late to most functions, Draco was almost always there waiting for him. But not only that, it just didn’t feel the same without Draco there with him.

For such a small space, it felt suffocatingly large without his other half.

Harry waited for Draco to arrive for what felt like ages, bouncing his leg anxiously while sitting on the sofa. The second he heard the door open he sprung up to face it. There stood Draco, looking as dashing and closed-off as ever. Harry hadn’t seen that coldness in his eyes in quite some time, at least not within the walls of their room. He decided not to dwell on it, however, and proceeded to dart toward Draco with a renewed purpose, drawing him into a tight embrace.

Draco’s eyes widened with concealed panic ever so slightly, and Harry could feel him begin to tense in his arms. Before he could pull away, the shorter boy buried his head into the nape of Draco’s neck and clung onto his shirt for dear life, clenching the loose fabric tight in his fists.

“I missed you, you annoying git,” Harry grumbled with no bite.

Harry felt Draco soften in his arms at the words. He looked up at him, only to see his cold front melting into fear, tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. “I missed you too, Haz,” Draco whispered, nearly inaudible. “So, so much.”

Something happened. Something  _ very bad  _ had happened. It was written all over Draco’s face, his body language, hell, even in his greeting. Harry was worried. Scratch that, he was  _ absolutely fucking terrified  _ for Draco. His confident, loving, stubborn Draco. Whatever had scared him enough to break him down into tears was enough for Harry. He almost didn’t want to know, but the look on Draco’s face made Harry want to burn all of London to the ground in revenge. The only feeling Harry felt for those who hurt his loved ones was untameable, unbridled rage. Whoever did this would pay.

But not then. That would all be in due time. At that moment, however, what Draco wanted, no  _ needed, _ was a shoulder to cry on and a long cuddle session.

Harry could do that too.


End file.
